


like sun and moon (we cross but never touch)

by dytabytes



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: F/M, Haircuts, Unresolved Romantic Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-10
Updated: 2015-09-10
Packaged: 2018-04-20 02:47:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4770620
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dytabytes/pseuds/dytabytes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris's bangs are getting in his eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like sun and moon (we cross but never touch)

They’re camping on Sundermount for the night. Kirkwall lies on the horizon, but the air is thick with the weight not-yet-fallen rain, and none of them want to be caught in a summer squall on the mountainside.

“Have you decided to become a horse, or something?”, Hawke asks when Carver tosses his head for about the hundredth time since they pitched camp.

“What.” And there’s that sullen glower that she’s come to know so well.

“You keep doing that flip thing with your bangs. You look like a startled pony.” She mimics the movement to show him.

“Shut up!” He shoves at her, embarrassed, and she laughs.

“It’s true, though!” It’s easy to reach out and ruffle his sweat-sticky hair, even as he yelps. “You’re all shaggy!”

“Well maybe I like it that way.”

Aveline sighs, lovingly resigned as usual. “You’re going to get hair in your eyes, and then some bandit is going to gut you while you’re shaking them clear.”

“Yup! Time for a trim, little sib!”

While he huffs and puffs like a cranky druffalo, Carver lets Hawke gleefully tug him over to a convenient tree stump and clip his bangs. Cutting hair with a dagger isn’t the easiest thing, but she’s been trimming the twins for so long… Best not to think about Bethy when she’s got a knife to Carver’s forehead.

When she’s done, Carver stomps off to go practice with his sword, which is to say, he’s off to hit things with a stick until he feels better about being her little brother. Aveline goes with him to make sure that he doesn’t get into it with a giant spider… again.

Hawke and Fenris are left to sit by the remains of the cookfire, with him sharpening his sword and her checking her staff for knicks and dents. Well, pretending to check her staff. Mostly, she’s watching Fenris.

He looks so calm like this, sword leaned against his lap as he pushes his whetstone along the edge. He sets a steady rhythm with the stone. Scrape. Scrape. Scrape. Between the soft sounds and the summer heat, Hawke thinks she could fall asleep just like this, propped up against her pack with her staff tucked into her lap. Her eyelids start to slide shut. 

“What you just did for Carver …”

She startles when Fenris breaks the silence.

“Uh, what? Oh, you mean his hair?” She gestures at her own, wrinkling her nose, because it’s also getting longer than she’d like.

“Mm…” He pushes his fingers through his own bangs, and Hawke still can’t figure out how he keeps from poking himself with those clawed gauntlets of his. “Mine are becoming a hindrance as well. I was wondering if I could borrow a knife?”

Hawke waves him off. “You’ll get them crooked if you do it yourself. Maker knows that’s what always happens to me.”

“Really?” A sly grin creeps over Fenris’s face. “But it looks ... decent.”

“You!” Hawke hopes that the darkness hides her blush as she smacks his shoulder. “You've been learning snark from Varric!”

“I can't deny that the dwarf might be rubbing off on me. But if I can’t cut my hair myself, what do you propose I do?”

“I could do it.” Hawke shrugs, flips her dagger in her hands. “It’s not like I didn’t do Carver’s hair. And he turned out … okay. I mean, he’s still a butterface, but his hair’s even enough.”

“I suppose.” Fenris sighs and sets his sword to the side, turning to face her fully. “Well. Do it, then.”

“Oh.” Hawke shuffles closer, hesitant. She hadn’t remembered how close she’d have to be to his face. With Carver it’s second nature to just reach in and hack things even, but it’s different to have Fenris’s breath whispering over her knuckles as she holds his hair in her hand.

“About to here? Would that be good?”

“Probably?” Fenris goes just a bit crosseyed as he tries to see where her fingers are, and Hawke has to stifle a laugh. “I suppose I will have to trust your judgement.”

“I… guess so.” She smiles awkwardly, heart warmed. “You should close your eyes.”

“Hmm.” Fenris’s lashes are pale like his hair, and barely visible unless you’re close up, like Hawke is right now. They look strangely delicate against his cheeks, and Hawke is struck with a wave of protective care.

She shoves it down almost as quickly as it rises. This isn’t the time. Focus on making sure he doesn’t look like a poorly thatched hut, Hawke.

Fenris’s hair is different from Carver’s and her own. The Hawke family hair is thick, if soft, with a tendency to stick up if slept on the wrong way. Fenris’s hair is thin and fine, clinging to her fingers even after she’s cut it away, ghostly as the elf she’s taking it from.

“There.” She sits back to look at her masterpiece. “How’s that?”

Fenris blinks his eyes open and shakes his head briskly, sending a flurry of pale remnants flying. He pokes at his bangs, then nods.

“It’s… good.”

“I’m glad.” Hawke grins, then clucks her tongue. “Wait, you’ve got something right-” She brushes her knuckles over Fenris’s cheek. “There. Um.”

She pauses when he catches her hand with his own and gives her fingers a gentle squeeze.

“Thank you, Hawke. I appreciate your help.”

The moment hangs heavy in the air, slowed by the heat of the high summer night and the weight of the rain and the slow beat of her heart. She wants to lean in and kiss him. She wants to run away screaming.

She rasps, “Not a problem.”

She lets go.

“Let me know if you want me to do it again sometime.”

“I will.” Fenris says, and after a moment’s pause, he picks his sword and whetstone up again.

Hawke runs her thumb over her fingers, then turns back to her staff.

There’s a pain in her chest, and she’s not sure if it’s relief or regret, but the sun is closing in on the horizon, and her brother and Aveline will be back any moment. She’ll think about her feelings later.


End file.
